Letters and poems | ||
Upon a Favour offer'd.
Cælia
, too late you wou'd repent
The off'ring all your store;
Is now but like a Pardon sent
To one that's dead before.
The off'ring all your store;
Is now but like a Pardon sent
To one that's dead before.
While at the first you cruel prov'd,
And grant the Bliss too late;
You hinder'd me of one I lov'd,
To give me one I hate.
And grant the Bliss too late;
You hinder'd me of one I lov'd,
To give me one I hate.
I thought you innocent, as fair,
When first my court I made;
But when your Falshoods plain appear,
My Love no longer stay'd.
When first my court I made;
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My Love no longer stay'd.
Your Bounty of those Favours shown,
Whose Worth you first deface;
Is melting valu'd Medals down,
And giving us the Brass.
Whose Worth you first deface;
Is melting valu'd Medals down,
And giving us the Brass.
Oh, since the thing we beg's a Toy,
That's priz'd by Love alone,
Why cannot Women grant the Joy,
Before our Love is gone?
That's priz'd by Love alone,
Why cannot Women grant the Joy,
Before our Love is gone?
Letters and poems | ||